


Rain

by Not_You



Series: A Gentleman of Negotiable Virtue [7]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Feels, M/M, Masturbation, Raven you cockblock, rainy nights, warming drinks, what do you mean chess doesn't count as a sex act?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik play chess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Charles muffles a groan in his pillow, because it's far past time for that last appointment and his stupid body is trained. Right now he's hard as a rock, too, the damn thing achieved and utterly useless. He strokes it lovingly all the same. It's more like giving someone else a handjob now, but he's always liked doing that. He thinks of Erik's cock heavy in his mouth and whimpers, his free hand roaming his chest fitfully. He pinches one nipple a little too hard and can't keep back a whisper-soft cry at the pain, flinching and then melting as it fades into pleasure. After a few futile efforts to think of something besides the object of his stupid affections Charles just gives in completely, even whimpering Erik's name aloud and muffling it in the pillow. There's the whole lurid collection of things they've done to think about, as well as all the things they haven't done (and presumably never will), but in the end Charles finds himself at an old favorite in his catalogue of impossible fantasies. The one where he and Erik are tangled together and kissing like no one in the world will ever have another chance.

Afterward it's particularly lonely, and Charles grumbles as he cleans himself up and rides down the stairs, vaguely thinking of a drink. Warming and/or alcoholic seems the theme of the hour. It's a cool and rainy night, so he supposes he shouldn't be surprised to find Erik in possession of the same idea. He's mixing something at the stove, and Charles just pauses to watch him for a long moment. He has seen Erik in everything from his perfect skin to full-body black leather, but wrapped in the ridiculous rubber duck patterned robe Charles never wears might be his favorite.

"Is there enough for two?" He asks, rolling into the kitchen. Erik smiles over his shoulder at him.

"Yes, there is. You do like cocoa, right?"

"I fear it may be a chemical addiction." He fetches the old blue mugs that are the perfect size and hold the heat in and deposits them at Erik's elbow. "Would you like brandy in yours?"

"Absolutely. I'd already have it out if it didn't seem rude to drink a man's liquor without him."

"Just so you know, you're welcome to anything consumable on the premises, whether I'm present or not."

Erik thanks him, and pours a bit into each cup, topping them off with creamy cocoa and stirring each one carefully. Charles can see him thinking to pass the first one over, and then realizing that Charles needs both hands to drive. He takes up both cups instead and lets Charles lead the way out to the living room where they set up on the coffee table. Conversation slows and then stops as the old clock on the mantle marks off the long, silent moments.

"Chess?" Charles finally says, both their cups drained.

"Definitely." He goes and pours for them again while Charles sets up the board. He smiles, remembering their first game. After running the gauntlet of Shaw's abuse, he hadn't had the nerve to do anything on his first visit that technically required a prostitute. Erik had been calm and friendly (and more importantly, an excellent opponent) and utterly platonic until the last minute or so, when he had run his tongue around the excruciatingly sensitive outer rim of Charles's ear and purred that he hoped they could play other games next time. Now Charles swallows hard, and tries not to blush as he watches Erik's long fingers caress the black rook. Erik slides it across the board at last.

"Check."

He sighs. "The curse of a beautiful opponent."

Erik grins at him, the expression not beautiful or sexy, in fact something between ridiculous and terrifying and all the more precious for that. "Surely you're used to me by now, Charles."

"I don't think I ever will be. Not the way you mean."

Erik actually blushes at that, and Charles's heart breaks and melts at the same time. It seems appropriate that he can't find any way out of check. When he's sure, he tips his king over with good grace. "Checkmate. You have me, my friend."

"I see," he murmurs, and his eyes look silver in the low light.

"Erik, I—"

"Hey, do you guys mind if I have the rest of this cocoa?" Raven's hollering is almost as loud as the sudden thunderclap that accompanies it. Charles groans.

"Yes, Raven!" He yells back, and goes rolling away to be sure the emergency power will come on and keep the stair lifts working if the main power goes out. He checks twice to be very sure the breakers are properly positioned, mercilessly crushing the treacherous little urge to just let it go out so Erik will carry him again.


End file.
